


treacherous

by blazeofglory



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Solo: A Star Wars Story, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: Lando is beginning to wonder if Han actually has a self-preservation instinct.5 times that Lando was protective of Han +1 time Han was protective of Lando.





	treacherous

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a prompt on the SW Kink Meme that asked for protective Lando! 
> 
> Of all the Star Wars fic I've written through the years, I think this is only the second one that I've actually written in-universe, and that first one was at least two years ago. I spent a LOT of time on Wookieepedia researching alien races, names, planets, currencies, swear words, slang, etc... So I hope this isn't an unintelligible mess!
> 
> As always, thanks to Sina for being so god damn wonderful and helpful!
> 
> TW: allusion to past sexual assault

1.

“No, _you_ listen—”

Lando takes a deep breath, steeling himself before he turns towards Han’s loud voice. Here he was, having a perfectly nice night, just about to beat a smug asshole at a game of sabacc, but now he has to throw his cards down and save Han’s ass. _Again_. With one last sigh, Lando politely excuses himself from the table, and starts making his way through the crowded bar, over to Han and the _very_ angry reptilian being standing over him.

“That was a long time ago,” Han is saying as Lando sidles up next to him, though he’s not even sure if Han notices. He’s red-faced, indignant and hiding it poorly, and Lando idly wonders just how much Han has had to drink. “Can’t we just forgive and forget?”

Han’s drunken attempt at placating the being in front of him—is he a Barabel? Lando isn’t sure, he hasn’t seen one in _years_ —only serves to make him even angrier. He makes an angry noise, almost a hiss, stepping closer.

Normally, Lando would leave Han to his own devices, but Han’s ribs are still healing from an altercation last week, and he seems just a little too drunk to even realize that he’s about thirty seconds away from being clawed in the gut. Lando nudges Han gently and Han finally turns toward him with a drunk, happy smile.

“Lando!” Han declares loudly, while the Barabel continues to glare daggers. “Have you met Zal?”

“Your friend owes this one nova crystals,” Zal says, pointing a clawed finger dangerously close to Han’s chest. Han just laughs, leaning heavily into Lando’s side. 

“I told you that it wasn’t me who stole them,” Han lies. Lando knows for a _fact_ that Han stole a few nova crystals several years before they met, because he _still_ brags about escaping by the skin of his teeth. It’s really no surprise that the consequences are finally catching up to him.

“Zal,” Lando cuts in, sending a genial smile his way. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. When were your crystals stolen?”

“Four years ago!” Zal exclaims, working himself up into more anger. “This scrumrat on Corellia—”

“Hey now—” Han starts to interrupt, but Lando nudges him a little harder this time and he shuts up for once in his life.

“Han wasn’t alone, though, was he?” Lando asks, seizing his chance and hoping that he remembers Han’s story well enough to lie about it. Zal and Han both stay silent and Lando continues, “There was a girl with him, do you remember her?”

“A skinny thing,” Zal answers, crossing his arms over his chest—he still looks pissed, but he’s keeping his claws away, and that’s enough for Lando to breathe a little easier. He wraps his arm around Han’s shoulders, carefully not thinking too much about how warm Han is against his side. If anything, he should be _annoyed_ by the warmth, considering that they’re on a disgustingly hot desert planet.

“That’s the one,” Lando agrees. “Qi’ra left Han, broke his heart, and stole _everything_ , even their ship. She’s living large off of the money she got from _your_ nova crystals, and I know exactly where she is.”

Han cuts him a sidelong glance, obviously considering objecting before deflating just a little; Lando knows that the wound of Qi’ra leaving is pretty fresh and he feels bad bringing it up even in this blatant lie, but it’s all he could think to do. He half-expects Han to defend Qi’ra even now, after she really did betray him, but Han stays quiet, and Lando is grateful.

“ _Where?_ ” Zal hisses, eyes darting around the bar as if expecting to see her behind the dancing locals kicking up clouds of sand with every stomp of their many, _many_ feet.

“Coruscant, somewhere in the underworld,” Lando answers promptly, throwing the name out at random because it is far, _far_ away from where they are now. “Han would pay you back for it if he could, but he can’t and Qi’ra certainly can, I can promise you that.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“We’ll be here in town for a while… we’ll stay until you get back from Coruscant, to ensure that everything goes smoothly with Qi’ra.”

Zal huffs, looking between the two of them for a moment—he’s weighing his odds, obviously deciding if he should kill them where they stand or take them with him, and Lando’s hand is itching to reach for his blaster—but then, _finally_ , Chewie shows up and starts saying something to Han, and Zal knows that he can’t win this fight. He grumbles something and stalks away, fading away into the crowd.

“That was nothing, some son of a bantha I knew a while back,” Han is assuring Chewie, already sipping calmly at a drink that he got from who knows where. 

“It’s a wonder that you aren’t dead yet,” Lando points out, and Han just laughs, loud and bright right in Lando’s ear. 

“I can handle myself just fine,” Han says, to which Chewie says something that Lando can’t quite hear in the din of the bar. Han rolls his eyes and replies, “Nah, I had it handled already, Lando just got here.”

Lando scoffs, stepping away from Han and wandering off to find his own drink, leaving Han and Chewie to finish theirs. He has a game of sabacc to win, and _fast_ , because they need to get their asses off of Lan Barrell before Zal realizes that he’s been conned once again. Lando re-enters the game, smiling charmingly at his opponents, but he keeps an eye on Han over the tops of his cards now, watching as he drinks and laughs with Chewie. Han looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and it’s a good look on him, even though it’s definitely a misplaced sense of calm. 

For one brief second, Lando wishes that he really does know where Qi’ra is—he’d love to send an angry Barabel after her.

 

 

2.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a bruise,” Lando muses, lazily stroking a hand over the constellation of yellow and green on Han’s sweaty back. It’s almost weird how this _isn’t_ weird. At some point between one job and the next, Lando realized that he could trust Han with his life, and that’s a whole lot more vulnerable than fucking, so—the fucking came pretty close after the realization. He hadn’t expected these moments of softness, not with Han of all people, but he relishes them all the same. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten to be soft, and he suspects it’s been even longer for Han; though, with what Lando knows of Corellia and Han’s past with Qi’ra, he’s not sure Han has ever had the chance to be gentle like this. “I know I said you should accessorize, but I didn’t mean quite like this.”

Han huffs a quiet, sleepy laugh into Lando’s shoulder and says, “I can’t afford anything nicer.”

Lando’s first instinct is to say, _I’ll get you something nice_ , but that would definitely be pushing it. Whatever this is between them, it’s not _that_ , and even if it was, Lando seriously doubts that Han would accept lavish gifts from him. It’s a nice thought, though—the mental image of Han dressed to the nines in clothes that Lando picked out, a tailored cape and shiny new boots, and maybe a necklace, tucked under his shirt, something private just for the two of them… Yeah, it’s a _really_ nice thought. Lando resolves to find them a job where Han _has_ to dress up, just for the sake of seeing him cleaned up and pretty.

Instead of saying something embarrassingly sappy and fueling Han’s already inflated ego, Lando says, “We made a lot of money last month, you could spend _some_ of it on, say, a new jacket.”

“I’m in too much debt,” Han whines, his hair tickling Lando’s chin as he shifts a little, nuzzling Lando’s neck with his nose. Lando considers kissing the top of Han’s head and just _barely_ resists. What’s gotten into him? “If I show up on Tatooine with a new jacket but not all of Jabba’s money back, he’ll skin me alive.”

Han sounds _way_ too calm about the very real prospect of facing death at the hands of the Hutts. Lando is beginning to wonder if Han actually has a self-preservation instinct. 

“I leave for two months and you decide to go work for the Hutts,” Lando complains, voice dripping with unconcealed contempt. “I told you it wouldn’t go well, baby.”

“It sounds condescending when you call me baby in that tone.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “You’re being a baby.”

Before _this_ started, Han probably would’ve gotten pissy at Lando’s comment, but now he just laughs and shifts fully on top of Lando, straddling his thighs. Tatooine may be a crappy little rock, but moments like this make Lando glad for their two suns—Han is _golden,_ tanned so beautifully just from the few days he spent there. He looks good like this, healthy and strong; he’s leagues away from the pale, scruffy mess that he was when they first met. Lando can’t help but run his hands over Han’s thighs, over the soft hair and strong muscles and lingering bruises, admiring the way Han looks on top of him, half-wondering how Han managed to get tan _all over_. Han catches his eye, an easy smile stretching across his face, preening under Lando’s attention.

Lando likes to consider himself a smart man. He doesn’t do things without thinking, not like Han tends to—he thinks everything through, he plans meticulously, and he _always_ does what’s best for himself. He’s a gambler and he’s _good_ at it, and that certainly doesn’t come from making rash decisions. He hasn’t faltered in years, so he doesn’t really have a good excuse for why he opens his mouth and lies right to Han’s face.

“I know a guy on Tatooine that could help,” Lando says, carefully nonchalant, cool as a dead star. “He owes me a favor.”

“It’s a lot of money,” Han counters, brow raised and disbelieving. Lando shrugs. 

“It’s a big favor.”

Han leans down, smiling too big to kiss Lando properly, though he gives it a try and they both end up laughing into each other’s mouths.

“I could pay the debt off without your help,” Han whispers softly, his lips still brushing Lando’s. “I’ve got some of the money, I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity,” Lando chastises, biting Han’s lip in punishment—Han moans, though, which is just as good. “I don’t plan to see this guy any time soon, so I won’t be using that favor— _you_ may as well. You can thank me by buying yourself that nice coat, it’ll spare my eyes from having to look at your old one.” 

“Well, if you weren’t gonna use the favor anyway…”

Lando needs to distract Han before he starts asking questions about _who_ this favor is from, what Lando did to earn it, and how the fuck some mysterious favor can pay off his debt to Jabba—Lando kisses Han harder, sliding his hands into Han’s messy hair, as he thinks, _I’ll take care of it all, baby._

Later, Lando makes Chewie swear not to tell Han, then asks exactly how big Han’s debt is. It’s worse than Lando expected—trust Han to downplay it. Luckily, Lando has some money saved up; he was keeping it just in case he needed a quick getaway, but the two months that he spent away from Han and the _Falcon_ , getting his various affairs in order, were a lot lonelier than he remembers being before that fateful day that Han sat down at his sabacc table. He doesn’t think he’ll be leaving this ship again anytime soon.

Lando makes arrangements to wire the credits down to a guy he trusts on Tatooine—Golrin doesn’t actually owe him any favors, but he’ll get the money to Jabba on Han’s behalf for a small enough fee. Lando has never set foot on Tatooine a day in his life; he hopes Han and Chewie decide to emulate that decision from here on.

 

 

3.  

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” Lando denies, glaring at Chewie from across the booth, tucked into the corner of a dive bar somewhere on some shitty Outer Rim planet that they’re only on to get some fuel and do a few repairs. “Han can do whatever he wants.” 

Despite Chewie’s pointed comments, Lando can’t seem to look away from Han. He’s sitting at the bar, waiting on their drinks; though he’s only spoken to the bartender and one Twi’lek girl who he seemed to decline a drink from, half a dozen eyes are already looking his way. No matter where they go, it always seems like there are people just _looking_ at Han with hungry eyes, staring at his jawline and his ass and the way his broad shoulders look in his new jacket. Everyone wants a piece of him.

But Lando isn’t _jealous_. Han isn’t his to be jealous over, and _besides_ , Han isn’t even looking back at any of the people looking at him. After he turns the Twi’lek away, he glances behind himself to scope out the booth that Lando and Chewie found; he offers them a smile that Lando returns on instinct, and then… A man sits down right next to Han, so close that their arms brush, and Han is still smiling when he turns to look at him.

“Don’t say a word,” Lando says to Chewie preemptively, glaring at the man whose hand is now on Han’s thigh, and Chewie makes an indignant sound. Lando clenches his jaw involuntarily, grinding his teeth a little—all this Han-related stress has _got_ to be bad for his dental health. “Han isn’t my boyfriend.” 

Lando doesn’t like the look of this guy, is all. He’s too _touchy_ , and even though it doesn’t seem like Han is moving away from him, Han certainly isn’t leaning into the touches the way he does with Lando. Lando knows Han’s tells as well as his own at this point. When _Lando_ puts a hand on Han’s thigh and whispers in his ear like that, Han flushes a gorgeous pink and spreads his legs in invitation, and… he’s not doing either of those things right now. Lando has had enough of watching this.

Chewie laughs as Lando stands abruptly, but Lando ignores him, striding confidently over to Han. Up close, he can see the intent in the man’s eyes and the amusement in Han’s, and he hears a snippet of conversation—

“I’m here with someone,” Han is saying, but the man doesn’t move away. He smiles instead, something predatory about the points of his sharp teeth.

“I can make you forget all about them,” he offers, leaning in closer and closer, as if to take a bite of Han’s soft neck.

“I don’t think I’m quite so easily forgettable,” Lando chimes in, stepping between them and lifting the man’s hand off of Han like it’s nothing. He leans against the bar, his back to the man, resolutely ignoring his outraged complaints. Han grins mischievously.

“Maybe I meant Chewie,” Han says, eyes bright with amusement, and Lando laughs easily. He doesn’t think he’s ever laughed as much in his whole life as he has in this past year with Han, even counting the summer he spent on a pleasure planet a few years back. He doesn’t dwell on what that means.

“Then go make out with him instead,” Lando offers, and Han laughs now too.

“I guess I’ll settle for you,” Han acquiesces, turning sideways on his barstool and reaching out to hold Lando’s hips. There are still eyes on him, perhaps even more now than before, and Lando knows for sure that the man next to them is watching, and Chewie is _definitely_ watching and judging them for being such idiots. Lando cups Han’s face gently, perhaps too gently for this bar and their tenuous friendship-relationship-whatever-it-is, and kisses him softly.

Though the bar is loud, Lando can still hear every little sound that Han makes, and Han makes a _lot_ of little sounds—Chewie complains about hearing him often enough. Han moans shamelessly into Lando’s mouth when Lando pulls his hair a little, he makes a breathless sound when Lando bites his lip and licks over the stinging spot, and he outright _groans_ when Lando slips his thigh between Han’s and presses in. They’re getting a little carried away for being in public, but Han’s mouth is too sweet to resist, and in a bar like this where everyone is already ogling Han, no one is gonna _complain_ about a free show.

They don’t stop kissing until the bartender coughs pointedly and they slowly part—there’s an odd look in Han’s eyes as he watches Lando pay for the drinks and grab them all, but Lando doesn’t dare ask what Han’s thinking. He’s not sure either of them can handle saying all of this out loud just yet; they’re in dangerous territory, navigating through an asteroid field, and Lando doesn’t want them to take a wrong turn and risk crashing and burning.

Brow furrowed, Han opens his mouth to say something, but Lando interrupts in a gentle voice to say, “Let’s talk about it later, baby.”

Han’s brow smooths out at the endearment and he gives a small smile, taking one of the drinks from Lando as they head back over to the booth. Whatever this is between them, it’s high stakes, and Lando has bet so _much_ on it already, but he’s just starting to consider—maybe Han wants to up the ante.

 

  

4.

“ _Yeah_ , fuck,” Han gasps out, his fingers clutching hard at Lando’s shoulders while Lando bites and sucks at Han’s neck. For all that Lando likes to complain about Han’s proclivity for being covered in bruises, he doesn’t mind when _he’s_ the one marking Han up. They have nowhere to be any time soon and no one to impress; for once, Lando isn’t holding back from painting Han’s neck bright red with his touch, and it sure is a pretty sight.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Lando reminds Han, whispering in his ear and making Han shiver. Lando smiles against Han’s skin, reveling in the thrill of knocking Han off balance.

“Right,” Han says, sounding dazed, but a second later, he’s sitting up properly and Lando follows suit. Han raises a brow, leveling Lando with a chastising look. “Distracting with sex is usually _my_ move, not yours.”

Lando shrugs, shameless, and settles back against the wall, their sides pressed together. He gestures for Han to keep talking.

“I really don’t think either of us _want_ to talk about this,” Han complains, nervously picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “So, just—I mean—what are we doing?”

Though Lando knew exactly where this was going, he tenses anyway. He’s pretty observant—he knows how he feels about Han and he knows exactly how Han feels about him too. They’re both helplessly in love with each other, and maybe that should be a good thing; maybe it would be, if they were normal people, but their lives are far from normal and Lando isn’t sure that it’s a good thing for them. They’ve already put so much trust into this relationship and adding love into the mix could finally tip the scale out of balance. It’s a miracle that their partnership hasn’t fallen apart yet, really; they’re a powder keg just waiting to explode.

Lando’s self-preservation instincts are telling him that it’s time to go. If he’s going to make it in this galaxy, he can’t be tied down by anyone—not Han, not Chewie, not this sense of camaraderie and _family_ that they’ve been fostering on this ship over the past year. How is he supposed to look out for himself if he’s so busy looking out for Han? He should cut his losses, he should fold now before he can’t go back anymore, he should leave the _Falcon_ behind and never look back. 

Lando has left a dozen lovers behind before; the decision had always been easy until right now.

It’s deathly quiet in the captain’s quarters. Lando stares down at where Han’s anxious hands are slowly unraveling the hem of his shirt.

“You make me reckless,” Lando admits, voice quiet. He reaches out, holding Han’s hand and stopping him from pulling at the thread. He laces their fingers together and lifts Han’s hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Their eyes meet—Lando doesn’t think he’s ever seen Han look quite so intense. Lando should be _leaving_ , but he’s rooted to the spot, transfixed by Han’s gaze.

“I thought I was the reckless one,” Han says, and Lando chuckles quietly. It seems obvious, all of a sudden, that leaving is no longer an option—maybe it never was. If Lando leaves, he knows that not a single day will pass without thinking about this moment, thinking about _Han_ , thinking about what they could’ve had and what he gave up. Lando is no stranger to regret, but he refuses to add this to the long list of things that he’s screwed up.

Maybe everything will go wrong, someday. Maybe Lando will die for love. That doesn’t sound so bad, really—maybe it would be worth it, to be with Han now.

Lando leans in and kisses Han gently, just a chaste touch of lips before he pulls back a little, his forehead pressed to Han’s. 

“I’m in love with you.”

“Really?”

Lando moves back, shoving Han’s shoulder and laughing, surprising even himself with how easy it feels. “Yes, _really!_ ”

The grin on Han’s face is blindingly beautiful, the very epitome of uninhibited _joy_ , and Lando just has to kiss him again. He had assumed that Han knew Lando was in love with him already, just because Lando’s been so kriffing _obvious_ about it, but the pleased yet surprised look on Han’s face was too genuine to be a lie. Lando keeps kissing Han, wet and deep, until they’re both breathing hard and Han is pulling Lando into his lap.

They break apart, gasping for air, wide smiles on both of their faces.

“I love you too,” Han says, looking up at Lando like he’s given him the whole fucking galaxy on a plate. Lando has seen Han happy—sleepy and satisfied after sex, victorious and full of adrenaline after a successful job, giddy and laughing over wine, and cocky and smug with victory at the sabacc table—he thought he’d seen all of Han’s smiles already, but this one is different. It’s somehow _sweeter_ and Lando wants to savor it.

“I had a feeling,” Lando replies, still grinning ear to ear, and Han is still laughing even as he leans in to kiss Lando’s neck.

By this point, Han knows just how to drive Lando wild, and he _does_. He sucks hard at Lando’s neck, hands tight on Lando’s hips as they grind against each other, both already hard and eager. Han’s hands wind up on Lando’s ass, as they always do sooner or later, and he squeezes.

“You wanna fuck me?” Lando asks, breathless, pushing back into Han’s touch. It’s been a while since they’ve fucked properly; they’ve only done it a handful of times, actually. Han is easy to please—he’s always desperate for Lando’s hands and Lando’s mouth, leaving it to Lando to offer anal when he wants it. Usually, Han is quick to say _yes please_ , but he hesitates now.

“Actually,” Han starts, then kisses Lando’s racing pulse softly. When he keeps talking, his lips are still brushing Lando’s neck. “I was thinking maybe you could fuck _me_.”

Lando shifts back in Han’s lap, enough for their eyes to meet. Han is _blushing_.

“I thought you didn’t like bottoming,” Lando says, remembering the very first time they hooked up, when Lando had asked Han if he could fuck him and Han had let out a stuttering, _No, I—I don’t like to do that_. Lando chalked the stuttering up to nerves and never brought it up again. He raises a brow, confused, and Han sighs.

“I want to try it, okay?” Han asks, sounding exasperated. “I’ve done it before and I didn’t like it, but this is just—it’s different. I might like it with you.”

Lando frowns, worry edging its way into his thoughts as his mind races. Cautiously, he asks, “What do you mean?” 

“It’s nothing,” Han says immediately, forcing a smile that Lando can immediately tell is fake. Han moves his hands to Lando’s face and tries to draw him into a kiss, but Lando pulls back and Han makes a frustrated noise. “Come on, it’s _nothing_ , let’s fuck, baby.” 

“I feel like it’s not nothing,” Lando says, choosing his words carefully. He doesn’t want to offend Han or scare him off, especially not _now_ , when they’re laying themselves bare in front of each other. Lando has a feeling that Han hasn’t let himself be this vulnerable in a long time; possibly ever. “Han…”

Han sighs again, dropping his hands into his lap and wringing them nervously, looking somewhere over Lando’s shoulder instead of meeting his eyes.

“Corellia is one giant hell hole,” Han says simply, an edge of suppressed anger in his voice. There’s something distant and sad in his eyes, like he’s lost in a memory, and Lando abruptly feels bad for asking. “Surviving on the streets ain’t easy.” 

“Okay,” Lando says softly. He can put the pieces together without Han having to explain—he only knows snippets about Han’s life on Corellia, but it’s enough to paint a bleak picture. He knows a little about Han’s father but not what happened to him; he knows that Han was homeless, at least for a while; he knows that Han and Qi’ra were the only ones keeping each other alive in the end; and Lando knows what happens to young humans down on their luck in awful places. He’s assuming the worst and he has a feeling that he isn’t wrong. It makes Lando _angry_ , itching to grab his blaster and do something about it, but there’s nothing he can do now except wrap his arms around Han and hold him tight.

Han clings to Lando just as tightly, hands fisted in the back of his shirt. Lando kisses the top of Han’s head and says, “We don’t have to talk about it, okay? I love you and I’ll take care of you.” 

Eventually, Han’s grip loosens and Lando moves back, watching him carefully. Han is blushing again, head ducked and looking away, so uncharacteristically quiet. Lando reaches out and cups his face gently, lifting Han’s chin ‘til their eyes meet. He repeats himself, low and fervent, and promises, “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

 

 

5.

Everything goes downhill so quickly, Lando’s not even exactly sure what’s happening. One moment, they’re delivering their smuggled goods, and the next, they’re being attacked—not by stormtroopers seizing contraband, thankfully, but by a group of thieves, eager to steal the cargo that the _Falcon_ was carrying. Lando doesn’t even know what the cargo _is_ —they don’t make a habit of getting involved in jobs where they don’t know all the details, but their Ithorian contacts had offered to pay a whole lot extra for their secrecy, and like the fools they are, they agreed.

At this point, Lando just wishes that they’d turned the job away altogether, but they’re running low on credits and the _Falcon_ ’s gotta keep flying, and now here they are, running for their lives through the jungles of Gilvaanen. _Everyone_ is running, it’s impossible to tell who’s who at this point; there’s Han and Chewie by his side, and then a whole lot of scattered Ithorians—the buyers and thieves alike— all being chased by stormtroopers, because of _course_ there were stormtroopers nearby when the thieves started shooting, and none of them are foolish enough to think that the empire will believe any of them are innocent in this matter. 

Chewie is yelling something, but between all the other shouting voices and the sounds of blaster fire, Lando can’t quite tell what he’s saying. He hears Han’s voice rise in answer, though, yelling, “We can’t go back, they’ve got the _Falcon_ surrounded!” 

“Just keep _running!_ ” Lando yells, and he’d send Han a glare, but he’s too busy jumping over winding tree roots and ducking under low-hanging vines. He risks a glance behind them, relieved to see that the Ithorians and stormtroopers alike are finally starting to scatter, though a few are still on their tail. Lando’s lungs feel like they’re about to give out at any second; he can hardly breathe, he’s running faster than he ever has in his life and he’s getting dizzy from the jungle heat, and he stumbles and hits a tree _hard_ as he just barely dodges a shot that would’ve hit him right in the head, and there’s pain all along his side from where he hit the tree that’ll make a nasty bruise later, but he just keeps _running_. 

There are screams from somewhere behind them—inhuman sounds, begging for mercy, and the sounds of more blaster fire.

Blindly, Lando aims his blaster behind him, hoping by some damn miracle that he can shoot that one last persistent stormtrooper that’s still tailing the three of them. He hears a shot hit heavy armor and then there’s a grunt from behind him and Lando whirls around, stumbling and breathless and _victorious_ —but the stormtrooper isn’t down yet. The trooper has stopped running, but he aims his blaster one more time, except his aim is off, he’s not aiming at Lando, he’s aiming at _Han_ , who’s just starting to turn around, and there’s no time to _think_ —Lando shoves Han hard and the stormtrooper shoots, and they both go down.

 _Who is screaming?_ , Lando thinks as he stares up at the sky, what little he can see of the blue through the heavy canopy of trees. His limbs feel heavy and he blinks slowly—he tries to look around, but he can’t quite make his eyes cooperate. _Where are the screams coming from?_

Lando blinks again, and this time, when he opens his eyes, he sees Han’s face, and he can’t help but smile at the sight. But Han isn’t smiling; Han looks wrecked, Han’s mouth is open like he’s saying something that Lando can’t hear, Han is _crying_ —

Everything catches up to Lando all at once.

“ _Han_ ,” he gasps out, wincing through the pain that he’s just now noticing—how did he not notice it before? He feels like he’s dying, maybe he _is_ dying, no, _no_ —

“You’re okay,” Han is saying, voice low and frantic. Lando looks around wildly, searching for the telltale white of an approaching stormtrooper, but it’s just Han and Chewie by his side, and that makes Lando feel a little bit better before he looks down— _oh_ , he’s bleeding, that makes a lot of sense. Han is pressing his hands to the wound in his side, and it _hurts_ , and Han’s hands are red with blood, _Lando’s_ blood, and Lando can’t fucking breathe.

“Chewie, we gotta get him out of here,” Han says urgently while Lando gasps for air, and Chewie says something in response, and then they’re both _yelling_ , and—

Everything goes black.

 

 

+1.

When Lando wakes, he’s so warm and comfortable, he puts off opening his eyes for one long moment—he just wants to draw this out, the hum of the _Falcon_ all around him, Han’s heart beating against Lando’s ear, Han’s arms wrapped around him—Lando snuggles closer, and that’s when he fully wakes up. He winces, his movement pulling at the wound in his side, and Han’s arm tightens around him reflexively. 

“Ow,” Lando grumbles, finally opening his eyes. Han’s hazel eyes are looking right at him, brow creased in concern—he’s frowning, which is a far cry from the soft smiles that Lando usually receives when he wakes up in Han’s embrace, but he supposes it can be understood under these circumstances.

“Have a good nap?” Han whispers, sitting up to peer down at Lando with an assessing gaze. Lando just blinks for a moment, his sleepiness quickly fading as pain replaces it. He glances down at himself—there’s a large bacta patch on his side, concealing the wound, and he’s rather relieved that he doesn’t have to see it. He’s never been good with blood, especially not his own.

The lights are low in the captain’s quarters and Lando is grateful for that too; his head hurts enough already. He rubs his temple absentmindedly, and then he notices that Han is still frowning at him, and he realizes that he was definitely supposed to respond out loud.

“Everything hurts,” Lando says honestly, and Han’s hands are immediately on him—gently touching his forehead to see if he has a temperature and then checking his bandage, peering under it for a second. His face is deadly serious and his hands are shaking—it’s been a long time since Lando has seen Han this rattled, and he doesn’t relish the sight. He wishes he could say something, _anything_ , to calm the distressed look on Han’s face, but he can hardly think straight at all.

“What do you need?” Han asks quietly, carefully climbing out of the bunk. Sitting up is uncomfortable, but Lando holds back a wince as Han helps him upright, and he grabs the cup of water that Han offers. Lando takes a long drink while he watches Han. “Something for the pain?”

“It’s not so bad.” Lando passes the cup back, then reaches for Han, too weak to pull him back into bed, but making his intent clear. _Finally_ , Han starts to smile, and he lays back down, pulling Lando close.

“Chewie helped me patch you up,” Han says quietly, his voice a whisper in Lando’s ear. Lando closes his eyes again, breathing in Han’s scent and savoring the warmth—the pain is already receding as he focuses on Han’s soothing touch and Han’s voice instead. “The shot only grazed you, but I thought—”

Han takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and… Lando knows that he almost died, he almost died to save _Han_ , and he knows that it would have been worth it. He would do it again—he would take that blaster hit a thousand times if it meant keeping Han safe.

 _How far I’ve come_ , Lando thinks.

“I would’ve carried you, but Chewie runs faster,” Han continues, laughing a little in that way that he does when he’s anxious, and Lando smiles against Han’s chest. Lando knows, without a doubt, without having to ask, that Han would have taken that hit for him too—he knows it as surely as he knows the asteroid belts around Socorro and knows every last inch of this ship and knows that Han Solo loves him.

Lando has no idea how long it’s been since he got shot and how long he’s been sleeping; he just knows that he’s still so _tired_. He feels safe like this, in Han’s arms; safe in a way that he doesn’t think he’s ever quite felt before. Han’s voice loses any sense of levity, growing more strained as he says, “Lando, you—you’re _okay_ , but you were trying to protect me, and…”

Lando feels warm lips touch his forehead.

“You’re always trying to protect me,” Han whispers. “You’re not subtle, baby. You gotta stop doing this.”

“Worth it,” Lando mumbles, fumbling with sleepy fingers to grasp Han’s hand, and he twines their fingers together. He has no intention of letting go.

“We’re never leaving this bed again,” Han counters. Lando feels him smooth down the edges of the bacta patch one last time, then his arms are back around Lando, gentle and strong. They’ve always been gentle with each other, even when it felt like they shouldn’t be, long before they said the word _love_ , but Lando’s known for a long time that Han is much softer underneath than he wants anyone to believe. He’s too good for this universe, and maybe that’s going to kill him someday—but Lando doesn’t plan to let anything bad ever happen to Han again. “I’ll bribe Chewie to bring us food, how’s that sound? Just—just you and me, safe in bed, where no kriffing stormtroopers can shoot at you.”

Lando blinks open his eyes again, smiling up at Han.

“I love you too, you old romantic.”

True to form, Han rolls his eyes, but then he ruins the effect by saying, “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll change the bandage in an hour.”

Lando makes a sleepy sound, closing his eyes once more. He’s lulled to sleep almost instantly, by Han’s beating heart and the hum of the ship, and Han must think he’s already deep asleep, because he hears his lover’s voice, just barely a whisper…

“I won’t let anyone else hurt you,” Han is saying, so _quiet,_ Lando can hardly hear him. There’s that undercurrent of anger in his voice again, like Lando hasn’t heard since Han last spoke of Corellia. This tone reminds Lando of what Han is capable of—the things he has done to survive, the people that he has hurt to save himself, to save Qi’ra, to save Chewie, and to save Lando. Han has killed for them all. Lando may think himself ready to die for love, but Han has already been killing for love, and Lando hadn’t even been paying attention.

It probably says a lot about Lando that he finds this really, incredibly attractive.

“I love you,” Han whispers, voice gone soft again—and, _yes_ , Lando loves this in him too—this quiet, devoted ferocity. “You and I, we’re gonna live forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to consider this canon compliant, that means that Han and Lando inevitably broke up, Han acquired a NEW debt to Jabba that led him back to Tatooine to meet Obi-Wan and Luke, Lando had his whole Cloud City gig, and the events of the OT proceeded. 
> 
> But if you want to consider this totally canon divergent, then they never broke up, and since Han's debt was paid off, he never had to go back to Tatooine ever again, so he and Lando never ended up involved with the Rebellion at all. That's probably not great for the sake of the Rebellion, but hey, it does mean that Han and Leia never had a son that eventually murdered Han, which is a pretty sweet tradeoff imho. 
> 
> Please let me know if y'all liked this!
> 
> ❤️


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